Influenced
by Calico17
Summary: House keeps seeing Amber after Kutner's death, and visits with Chase for unconventional treatment. Set around the end of S5, prior to Chase's and Cameron's wedding and House's admission to Mayfield. English translation.
1. Chapter 1

_a/n: this is the attempt to translate another one of my stories in English. It was written some time around when S6 had started, and can be found in its original form at my profile. This one isn't exactly Cameron-friendly, but has a strong House/Chase flavor to it. It also contains Cutthroat Bitch, Chase's bachelor party, and delves into the question as of why House did endanger Chase's life by arranging a certain stripper (because we never really got an answer to that). _

_Also, I'd like to apologize for any mistakes__ which are completely my own._**  
**

* * *

**Influenced**

It was close to midnight when the doorbell was interrupting Robert Chase's evening off.

With a grunt, he scrambled to his feet, his mouth still stuffed with Indian food, and shuffled to the door.

He was hardly surprised to see who visited him at this late hour.

It was House.

He had not seen him on Kutner's funeral.

Come to think of it, he had seen surprisingly little of him at all in the last few weeks.

Not that he had been unhappy about it. The relationship to his former boss and mentor had always been somewhat strained since he'd gotten serious with Cameron, and now, with the wedding waiting in the wing, his mind was occupied with tons of other things. Cameron insisted on inviting him, had even proposed to him that House should have been asked to be Best Man. Chase wondered if his wife-to-be had some sort of a masochistic streak in her; for some reason, he couldn't get past the thought that she still had feelings for their ex-boss. All of the wrong kind, of course.

He looked bad.

Tired.

Exhausted.

Under his eyes were dark circles that seemed to stem from insomnia, and he didn't say a word when Chase stepped back to let him in.

It felt weird to have him in their home. In his and Cameron's apartment, to be precise.

"I need your help." House forced out the words after he had closed the door behind them. His voice sounded rough and shaky.

Chase took another bite of his samosa and went back into the living room, feigning indifference. "Why?"

"I haven't slept in four days."

Based on his appearance, it was more than credible.

"Want me to sing you to sleep? Cameron's not home. She could probably do it better than me."

House pinched the bridge of his nose and refrained from a witty retort, which was alarming in itself. "I know that she's not here. I've checked the ER-schedule. I need you, not Cameron."

Chase dropped down on the sofa, both intrigued and shocked at the revelation. House was definitely in the toilet, openly asking him for help. "Sleeping pills, then. Ask Wilson to write a prescription."

"Wouldn't do the trick. And I didn't come to your place for cheap advice. You're not Wilson."

Chase leaned forward, resting his fingers on his lips for a moment. "You look like crap."

"Save the compliments for your marriage."

There was a trace of annoyance in his comeback, and Chase started to feel more than a little uneasy. He had learned to keep up with House's rudeness, had learned to shrug it off like water from a duck's back, but he had never seen him miserable enough to actually feel sorry for him.

In any case, Chase suspected that something more serious than the resolve of insomnia was about to come up, and he waited patiently until his unexpected visitor had settled opposite him in the recliner (which, oddly enough, looked a lot like the recliner in House's office).

The cane slipped out of House's grip, causing a muted thump on the soft carpet. House didn't bother to care, or he was too distracted to even notice. "You hypnotized me once."

Chase felt more awkward. "Hypnosis is not exactly a surrogate for lullabies."

"I don't want to sleep. I want to get rid of her."

Chase knitted his brows. Incoherent speech indicated malfunction of the brain. Prolonged sleep deprivation, added to the reckless pill popping House had been floundering into everyone's faces for years, it was possible. Not to mention the trauma of the accident a few months ago, and now the death of Kutner that House held himself partly responsible for. Chase knew he did. Nobody ever talked about it, but he just knew.

"Want to get rid of whom precisely?"

"Wilson's Shiksa. Amber."

Amber was dead. Crushed by a bus and consequently dying from Amantadine poisoning. Another death pinned on House's self-inflicted guilt.

"You want to get rid Amber?" He still didn't know if he got this straight.

"She's in here." House pointed to his forehead. "Inside my head. I need to get her out."

Good Lord.

Chase reached for the glass of wine on the table and set it back again, deciding it was best to stay as sober as possible. "So you're seeing Amber who has been dead for over half a year. Is there some kind of deeper meaning to it?"

"If I wanted to analyze it, I would have made an appointment with a psychiatrist or Wilson, not you. All you have to do is to scare her away."

He forced himself to concentrate, although the idea of House having a dead woman in his head was more than a little bit unnerving. "This can't be done in one single session. What's she doing? Is it responsible for the fact that you can't sleep?"

House closed his eyes for a moment, and Chase saw that his hands were shaking. "She's arranging Tupperware parties and constantly plays Eminem's new CD. It's driving me nuts. I need to stop her. Which is where you come into play."

"I won't start poking into an already messed-up mind, House. It's risky, you know that. If you're seeing Amber, you should talk about it with someone who specializes in such matters. In other words, find a therapist. You've got the wrong number. I'm a surgeon, not a shrink."

House gave him a small mocking pout, so familiar to Chase that he was tempted to throw him out. In the next split of a second, he would agree to do whatever House demanded him to do, because, well, they both knew he couldn't resist a good juicy challenge. Chase felt his guard tumbling down, like it usually happened when curiosity was taking over. Oh, House knew how to push his buttons, always had been.

"I do want to talk about it", House said, in an obstinate tone of voice. "I want to kick her out before she gets a chance to make herself at home."

"Do you have any idea what she wants from you?" Chase thought it was a weird question, but it seemed like the reasonable thing to ask. The whole situation was weird, so he tried to adjust as best as he could, playing along with House's insanity like he almost always did.

"If all you can do is asking me silly questions, you better go back to Thai food and keep watching Jerry Springer."

Chase reached for the remote and turned off the device. "This is serious, House. You should see a doctor."

"Which apparently you are not. You ever threw a glance at the Hippocratic Oath, or is it cash that keeps you on duty?"

For a moment, Chase was convinced he would reach for his wallet. He rose to his feet and shook his head. This wasn't going to end well. "I have no idea why Amber is in your head, but I'm pretty sure I'm not the one who should figure it out. If I'm to hypnotize you, you need to give me a very good reason. I'm no exorcist, and it's not gonna work like that anyway."

"Who said you were Max von Sydow? All I'm asking for is some damn hypnosis, and you're the only one available who has the required skills."

"Again, why?"

House performed an impatient wave of his hand. "You knew her. Seriously, who wants her bitching and diagnosing twenty-four seven?"

"She's doing the DDX?"

"Was doing it in life. No reason to stop after death", House acerbically pointed out.

"Is she good?"

"She's brilliant."

"Right", Chase drawled, letting the syllable roll around his tongue. "I get why you would want to get rid of her then."

"I need you to do this. I need to think clearly again without her interrupting my thought process."

"You think she's dangerous. Why would you say that?"

"Because she prances around wearing nothing but thongs. How many reasons you need?"

Chase took a deep breath and glanced at the clock.

It would be another four hours until Cameron would come home, minimum.

They had time. House had indeed checked out her schedule.

**oOo**

It took a long time to get House to completely relax and let go, longer than it did in their first (and only) session after the bus accident. It almost felt like House's subconsciousness was fighting him, denying access to this twisted mind of his. By the time House was in a slight trance, Chase was soaked to the skin with effort.

"Damn it, Chase, what takes you so long?"

"You're tense. Hypnosis doesn't work like that. It's not as easy as swallowing down a pill, you perfectly know that. If you don't cooperate, at least give me some slack for trying."

"I didn't come all the way to pat your head for just trying."

Chase sighed quietly. "Can you try to relax? Start with a deep breath. Concentrate on it."

"I didn't come for autosuggestive training."

_Perhaps it would do good you_, Chase thought.

"Close your eyes. Pay attention to my voice. Let go of all intruding thoughts. You are calm. Everything is quiet. You are calm and relaxed." Again and again he muttered the words like a mantra. It was a hard piece of work, and he realized that he was panting as he finally saw House's limbs gradually loosen, his body relaxing into the cushion. It was clear that the man was under a lot of pressure.

"How are you feeling?"

"It's too hot in here. Turn the heating down."

"Can you tell me where you are?"

"In your picture-perfect home. Can't you do better than that? Why am I not on the Bahamas?"

"Amber", Chase prompted, "you wanted to talk about Amber."

"I don't want to talk about her. I want to kick her out, that's all."

"Where is she now?"

"Sitting next to you."

Chase involuntarily glanced at the sofa, knowing he should know better. He cleared his throat, firmly fixing his mind on the man in front of him. "Right. So Amber is sitting next to me. What's she doing?"

"Stuffing her mouth with popcorn."

He looked at the half empty bowl that was seated on the couch table, a bit dazed by the image. "Why would she do that?"

"Pure malice?" House suggested.

Wrong question.

Chase planted his elbows on his knees and pressed his fingertips on his lips while he tried hard to think of anything, anything that made sense. It wasn't that House had given him much to work with. It wasn't that he wasn't used to this fact, either. Chase was perfectly aware that there was no other reason why House had decided to come to his place.

He could not resist the next question. "Is she wearing a thong?"

"What, you want details on her underwear? Come on, Chase, you're not _that_ immature."

It wouldn't work.

He looked at House and wondered whether he could dare to speak to her directly. Damn, this was like some creepy séance they were about to perform here.

"Why is she sitting next to me?"

"Why don't you ask her?"

Chase swallowed hard, weighing the options. This was downright creepy. He had never done anything like this before, and yet-… Wasn't it like everything that was connected to House? The more outrageous, the more sensational the better, and what a challenge it was. He had to admit to himself that this was the most interesting thing that had happened to him since he'd left diagnostics.

"You think you can get her to talk?"

**oOo**

"He's not the sharpest knife in the drawer." Amber picked another handful of popcorn from the bowl, inspecting it like she would inspect a sample under a microscope. "Why did you hire him?"

"Because he has nice hair."

"I'm blonde too." Challenging, and a bit too seductive for House's current liking, she threw back her head. Her long hair flew around her shoulders.

House sighed and focussed on the more important stuff. "I wanted him. He's easy to handle. I need someone who doesn't question everything I say."

"He needs a Daddy; someone who tells him what to do. Is that what you expect from your staff?"

"He survived four years doing what he's been told. I fired him when he started to grow up."

Amber threw a sidelong glance at the young Australian. "He's pretty. Cameron found that out quick, right? A bit too naive, maybe, but still pretty."

Chase intervened. "Are we talking about Amber or Cameron? She's not in your head, right?"

"Jealous fool", Amber snorted derisively.

"We're not talking Cameron," House said to Chase, ignoring Amber.

'No. This is all about you." She put back the bowl and looked at Chase with a strange, unfamiliar mix of pity and annoyance. "Poor stupid kid. He doesn't know a thing, does he? He doesn't suspect that she would leave him in a blink of an eye if you put a bouquet of flowers in her locker, spiced up with a candle light dinner invitation."

"I don't want her."

"But it's him you wanted. You just said so yourself."

"This is bullshit."

"Show him who she really is. Show him how she behaves when you're near her. Do you really think she loves him? Why do you think she keeps pestering you with petty cases from the ER?"

"It's because she loves babies and helpless puppies and men with brain tumors. She's fond of cripples, too."

Chase's voice came on. "Can we talk about Amber?"

"You wanted to know what she has to say. I can't help it if she wants to discuss your fiancée."

Amber nodded approvingly. "It bothers you because you're going to lose both. You can't stomach the fact that she chose him over you."

"Because it has been wrong all along. This has nothing to do with me, but with him being too blind to figure out the fact that she's afraid of commitment."

"Oh, we give the marriage counselor," Amber scoffed. "If he were like you, he wouldn't be _that_ stupid."

"Chase is not like me."

"Yet it's the reason why you hired him."

No, Chase was not like him.

But he was malleable.

Willing.

Ready to emerge to something worth grinding it.

"He's not like you," Amber nodded, "he is what you'll never be, a decent doctor with two healthy legs and a beautiful woman at his side. Unfortunately, he's without much ambition or common sense. Doesn't that make you angry?"

"I don't care how many healthy legs he has. I'm not stupid enough to be jealous."

"You'll lose him."

"Staff come and go."

"You hate change."

"I can live with it."

"What about the attention? It flatters you that they're still around."

"I didn't ask them to stay."

"So what do we make of it?" She inclined her head in Chase' direction. "You're okay with him giving up his choices to someone who gets off by the mere sight of cripples and puppies? She's not going to embrace who he really is. I bet she doesn't even know _what_ he really is."

Chase' voice interrupted them. "House? This is not about Cameron, is it?"

"It's not," he grumbled. "Can we change the subject?"

"Poor boy. It's all there is in his head. He can't stop thinking of how to make her his, because deep down, he knows she'll never be. I'm asking you in all honesty, how pathetic can a person get." Amber stood up and smoothed her short skirt. "Did you see the pictures on the walls? Phew!"

"Monet", he said, hoping to shut her up for once.

He hated her voice.

The way she mercilessly drummed unspoken truths into his ears, he hated that, too.

Hoping to make her stop, he said: "Painting for self-discovery in evening classes".

"Right, and he had been raving about it, though he'd much rather hang a poster of the _Silver Surfer_ or Norman Rockwell on the wall."

"He's remarkably adaptable."

Viciousness sparkled in her steely grey eyes. "It was convenient as long as he has adapted to you. Cameron? She'll turn him into a mindless oaf."

"Why exactly should that bother me?"

"Because you care." She smiled knowingly, and it gave him a chill down his spine. "All the things you've been teaching him, she can easily outweigh with a single burst of tears."

"I've worked with what's been given to me. Don't try to make it into more as it is."

"Thus bringing out the best in him," she said with an agreeing nod. "Cameron, she can't compete, but it's her who has him on a leash now. You were doing what you are doing, and quite successfully so. Cameron sets other standards. He will be your puppet no longer but hers. So you lose, and it's nagging on you. Don't try to deny it."

"This is ridiculous."

"Four years of hard work for nothing." She sighed theatrically. "I'm afraid you'll need to find yourself a new heir to the throne."

Was it really like that when it came down to him?

He had dismissed Chase not for fear of competition, but because it was the logical choice.

He did not want him as his successor. Chase had learned to swim, and it had been time to push him into the open water.

There was nothing to evaluate about that.

"Shut up", he growled. "This is not about Chase."

"And yet you came to him", she insisted. "He has always trusted you. He's looking up to you, and you dwell in it. Don't tell me you were indifferent to the fact that he's been avoiding you since he's been getting serious with Cameron. He's under her thumb already. Is this what we wanted?"

"House?" Chase' voice floated into the conscious part of his mind. "Are you listening?"

"Gag her," he growled. "For heavens sake, make her stop already."

Amber nodded solemnly in Chase's direction, idly taking up a music box from the dresser. _"__He_'d come to the conclusion that I'm right. He would listen and make up his mind, eventually."

"He's a fool in love."

"Pah." Amber wrinkled her nose and squinted. "For the love of a woman he's doing everything she wants him to do. Like a well-trained dog he keeps coming crawling on his knees to her whenever she snaps her fingers. We'd mock him senseless for that. Where's your enthusiasm?"

"You're getting worked up," Chase said, unaware of the ongoing dialogue. "I'm getting you back."

"Since when did he become such a coward?" Amber asked with a derogatory glance to the sofa before she put back the music box. "Is that what you would want him do? Next he cooks you a cocoa and pats you on the head and tells you that everything will be fine. It's what _she_ would do."

"This is no good," Chase said. "Your pulse is racing. Try to breathe more evenly. Concentrate on your breath. Amber is not here. We are alone. You are with me. Take it easy. I'm going to count down by ten. At five you'll feel as you would wake up from a good night's rest. Two, you will be relaxed and calm. Just breathe easy. Ten – nine – eight…"

"He means business." Amber shrugged. "Is it possible he doesn't like me?"

"No one liked you," House growled. "Go to hell."

"Nobody likes to hear the sad truth about themselves, especially not when they're selfish and narcissistic and manipulative of others."

He let out a humorless laugh. "That's why Chase is not a bit like me."

"You don't want him to submit to Cameron without a fight. That doesn't look like you. Hey, I've got an idea. It's brilliant. Wanna hear about it?"

"Go away."

"It's a good idea. Everyone involved is going to profit."

"Get out of my head."

"Another time, then", she said as she glanced at Chase.

Was there a touch of compassion in her eyes? He could not believe it.

He was probably too worn out to tell compassion from pity.

**oOo**

"Stay still" he heard Chase say, followed by the warm pressure of fingers on his arm. "How you're keeping up?"

"Smashing."

Chase kept checking his watch. It took another endless five minutes until House finally opened his eyes.

"That was quite a trip." _Made it hard on me as usual. Should I expect anything else from you?_

House looked around, slightly puzzled. His gaze slid across the entire living room and halted briefly at the green-yellowish canvas, painted by Cameron's own hand and proudly displayed on the archway passage of the kitchen.

"Is she still around?" Chase asked.

House blinked, then shook his head. "You have sucessfully expelled her."

Chase looked skeptical. "It's as real as it can be, right?"

"You think I was making this up to get your attention?"

"It's not quite commonplace to communicate with the dead."

House rubbed his forehead.

He still looked as exhausted as when he came here. Chase suddenly felt the urge to say something.

Anything.

"If you want to crash at my place for the night... It doesn't bother me."

"Yeah, and it won't bother your future wife even less. Send her in case I want to cry myself to sleep, will you do that for me?"

"You should get some rest. Sleep deprivation can cause hallucinations. I'll go get you a valium."

"You've done enough for today."

Chase picked up the cane and watched in uncomfortable silence as House scrambled to his feet. Finally, he said: "What did she say? Do you remember?"

"Nothing of importance," he snorted, but they both knew that he was lying.

"This is not Amber talking."

"Yeah, it's all in my messed-up mind."

"Amber doesn't know me. She didn't know Cameron."

"You were the gossip of the day three times a week, especially after the sperm donor story circling around."

"Amber knew nothing about it," he said softly. "She was dead long before. It's more than just a hallucination. You're talking to yourself."

"What a relief to hear your professional opinion, Dr. Chase." House turned to face him, hand on the door handle. "Thanks for the consult. You've been a great help."

It wasn't meant as a compliment. Chase shivered when House pulled the door open.

A cold air blew through the vestibule, reminding him that summer was almost over.

Suddenly, the image of a derisively laughing Amber crept up on him; Amber, who waited out there for House on the curb, her arms crossed triumphantly across her chest.

"I can give you a lift", he suggested, hoping that House, for this one time, would acknowledge his offer.

"I came here alone, I find back alone."

"Call Wilson when you're home."

"Telling him what? That his dead fiancée lap dances to Eminem in my dirty imagination?"

"She'll come back. It won't go away on its own, House."

"At least we'll have something to gossip about." He winked at him, but there was no amusement in his eyes.

Only fear.

"See you tomorrow," Chase said.

"That would be weird, wouldn't it? We never see each other. Except when I track you down in that cold sterile OR you chose to work at."

"I'll see you tomorrow," he repeated, with more determination this time. He stood there and watched House walking down the lane to the sideway. His car was parked in front of their house. Chase fleetingly considered to phone Wilson and ask him to call in a quarter of an hour at House's apartment, but changed his mind when he realized that Wilson would ask questions. He was too tired to tell someone in detail about this strange evening.

He wouldn't even tell Cameron.

"Take care," Chase said, not sure if House would hear him at all. He did.

"Same for you, too," House shouted laconically without turning his head, heading for his car.

Chase braced himself to heed the advice, and all of the sudden, a chill ran across his back.

He put out the light in the hallway and wondered whether it would be the last thing he'd heard of Amber.


	2. Chapter 2

Chase was wide awake when Cameron returned from work.

She looked exhausted from a long night's shift, and Chase noticed the prominent lines on her forehead, indicating that she had either been frowning a lot in the last couple of hours, or she was just plain tired. She had been pulling double shifts recently due to shortage of staff. Added to the fact that the date of the wedding was approaching in lightening speed, Chase couldn't help but to feel worried about her. For all he cared, a wedding in Vegas would have been fine with him, but she insisted on the lock, stock and barrel-version, bridesmaids and all.

She took off her coat, carefully put her bag onto the dresser, and greeted him with a fleeting kiss as she walked past him on her way to the kitchen. He heard the distinctive sucking noise of the refrigerator's door being opened, then listened to her rummaging through its content.

"You shouldn't stay up for me. You're on early call tomorrow."

"Fell asleep on the couch", he said. It was only partly a lie. The truth was, he was too upset to go to bed.

House had been visiting him in his home.

House was seeing a dead woman.

House who, under hypnosis, had mentioned Cameron's name. Several times, in fact, if he recalled correctly.

It just felt _wrong_.

He had no right to drag her into this; or him, for that matter.

Not with the wedding coming up, anyway. Chase wondered whether House knew about his reluctance to invite him. Of course, House would decline (whipped up with some pointed remark to make Chase look stupid for even asking), but still.

"Have you seen House recently?"

He knew she wouldn't admit it too freely. Apparently, she was the only one oblivious to the fact that Foreman kept him up to date with Cameron's frequent visits to the diagnostic department. Chase kept reminding himself that it was purely professional, and that it wasn't _that_ unusual. A large amount of House's weirdest cases had been transmitted from the ER. Yet every time Foreman told him of another patient pressed upon House's team by Cameron, Chase felt like shrinking inside.

He knew it was ridiculous, and that he shouldn't be feeling this strongly about it. He kept calling himself an idiot for being so blatantly jealous. The man wasn't interested in Cameron.

Or was he? It was more or less evident that House could have had her anytime with a single snap of his fingers if he wanted to, but it didn't make matters any easier.

She walked back into the sitting room. A cup of frozen yoghurt in her hand, she leaned against the door frame, pretending to think hard (he knew she remembered exactly every time and occasion when she saw their former boss, but convinced himself to give her the benefit of the doubt. It was healthier for both of them).

"I saw him yesterday. He didn't look too good to me. Wilson told me he has trouble sleeping."

Chase envisioned her sitting with Wilson at the cafeteria, both engaging a lively discussion about House's health over an espresso, Lox Bagels, and a Cesar salad. With a sigh, he reached for the Chardonnay, pouring Cameron a glass. "Kutner's death was a major blow for him."

"Kutner's death was a major shock for pretty much anyone." She kept her gaze on the yoghurt, methodically dipping the spoon in a circular motion around the rim. "It's traumatic even for those who didn't know him as well as House might have."

"Did he seem different to you? Apart from not looking too well, I mean.""

She frowned. "Since when are you interested in House's well-being?"

Now he had sparked her curiosity.

Not good.

She walked up to the sofa, settled down next to him, and took of her sneakers. She had never worn sneakers before she started working in the ER. Chase thought they looked nice on her, but he also loved the neatly pointed slippers she used to wear along with those pretty suits and vests.

"Wilson is concerned", she said, the frown still on her face. "He says House is convinced by the idea that Kutner was murdered."

"He's seeing ghosts."

"That's what I told him."

He realized that she was referring to her conversation with Wilson, assuming that he was being metaphorical.

Chase poured himself another glass. He had been drinking too much since House had left, and he was feeling a little tipsy already. "I mean, he literally sees ghosts. He dropped by earlier this evening. Apparently he's having heated conversations with Amber. - Up here." He circled his index finger close to his temple to emphasize its meaning.

Her eyes widened. "He was here? When? What did he want from you?"

"He asked me to exorcise a ghost."

"This is-…" Cameron trailed off, then looked at him incredulously. "Amber's dead."

"Not for him."

She stared at the half-emptied yoghurt cup in her cupped hands, biting her bottom lip. "Oh, God."

"It's probably nothing," he said, spurred by the urge to reassure her even though he knew it was useless. "He hasn't been sleeping for days. You know what it can do to the human brain. I told him to have Wilson write a prescription."

She still frowned, but didn't look at him this time. "Why is he seeing Amber? It doesn't make sense."

Chase thought it was obvious. "She was a lot like him."

"He couldn't stand her. Foreman told me he's been calling her names, and they definitely were of the less flattering kind."

Chase gave it some thought. It was one thing to be mocked by House because of allegedly professional incompetence, or because one spoke with a funny accent. Another thing was to be referred to as a bitch, which basically described a person's characteristics, and indeed it was never meant in an affectionate way, or simply to challenge. Still, he said: "He does that with practically everyone."

Cameron put down the cup, then drew up her legs and rested her chin on her knees. "We ought to tell Cuddy."

"I don't think it's a good idea. She'll put him on sick leave, and God knows what he'll be up to once he locks himself in his apartment. If he's as unstable as he is now, at least he'll be unstable when there's people around." Chase bit his tongue, cursing silently. Why did he say that? It would make her even more worried about House.

After a long moment of consideration, Cameron turned to face him, the expression in her eyes pleading. "Promise me something."

"Sure."

"Stay away from him. Don't let him make you become a part of this madness. I'm fine with not going to Cuddy, but Wilson should know. I'll talk to him first thing in the morning." She nipped at the wine, her brows slightly furrowed, eyes focused on the empty TV screen. Chase got up and switched on the stereo, hoping that Bach's Goldberg variations would lighten up the mood a little.

She didn't seem to notice. Her mind was still fully occupied with what she's just learned. "Did he tell you what she's doing?"

"She likes popcorn and apparently is an avid fan of Eminem."

Her eyes met his gaze, her expression serious, almost alarmed. "Don't get involved. Whatever he asks you to do, promise me you won't give in. He's got to realize that he needs professional help this time."

Indicating that he, Chase, wasn't a professional. She was right, and her words made perfect sense, yet Chase felt the sting of disappointment at her judgment.

Her hand reached for his, fingers icy still thanks to the frozen plastic cup. "Promise me."

"I promise."

Because really, what choice did he have?

* * *

**oOo**

* * *

"He's such an idiot."

"He used to be my favorite hatchet man."

"See what I mean?" Amber threw a slightly bored look to the open door leading to the cafeteria's patio. "He's sitting outside. Hiding from you, I suppose."

House followed her gaze. On one of the tables, he noticed Chase poking listlessly in a bowl of fruit salad with a fork. He was dressed in scrubs, indicating that he was still on call.

When he saw him stepping outside, Chase warily looked around, as if he wanted to make sure that nobody was watching. His lips curled in frustration when House approached him, realizing he could no longer avoid him.

"Forget it. I'm not going to indulge your stunts any more. Find someone else. Get a therapist, but leave me out of this."

"Funny, that's what Wilson said, too." He pulled the seat next to Chase's, ignoring the small noise of disapproval coming from his lips. "By the way, Cameron agrees with him. I don't remember telling your wife-to-be, so I'm guessing you confessed to her as soon as she got home. Did Momma tell you to stay away from the big bad House?"

Amber sighed before joining them at the table. "When wouldn't she?"

"How's Amber?" Chase asked, eyeing him from the side.

"Alive and kicking."

"Sorry to hear about that."

"Today she's wearing Prada. Not as sexy as a lab coat, admittedly, but still, _wow_."

"Not interested." Chase consulted his watch and pushed back his chair. "Gotta go."

"Is that the voice of reason kicking in? You'll hear that often once you and Dr. Cameron tied the knot."

"His life will become a dreadful bore," Amber predicted, inspecting her fingernails. "Just think of the fun you've had with him. Good times, eh?"

House waved his hand at her, which earned him a suspicious glance from the Aussie. He had to remind himself that this was all in his head. "She was gone for a few hours. Gave me a pretty decent night's rest. Your treatment was effective. The sad thing is, it didn't last. Did you forget something? Like, telling me to wipe her out of my memory?"

Chase did his 'This is where I would roll my eyes at you if I had the guts'-impression. "Hypnosis is not a magical trick, House. If you're experiencing hallucinations, get proper treatment."

Amber snorted contemptuously. "Did he just tell you what a pathetic loser he is?"

House managed to ignore her as expertly as he ignored Chase's uneasiness. "I need to get rid of her. I know you're kind of busy at the moment, but doesn't feeling superior of your ex-boss outweigh the joy of matrimony?"

"Don't make this about Cameron."

"I don't. Unless, of course, it's her who makes you act like a brainless whiner without a backbone."

Hook, line, and sinker. Chase snapped at the bait, chewing on it, tasting it. He put down the tray and sat down again.

House allowed himself the hint of a smirk. Goading him almost always worked. In that regard, he was easy to play.

"So she's still around. Right here, with us?"

"Craving a Martini."

"One single session of hypnosis is not a solution. You'll have to find the cause. Why her? What does she stand for? If you don't figure it out, you'll be fighting symptoms. A decent therapist might work it through with you." Chase shrugged, in that annoying, couldn't-care-less-kind of way that he hadn't had on him until he'd stopped working for House. "Of course, he'll charge you for it."

"I'm not going to have my head examined by some bloody idiot. _And_ pay him."

Amber interfered. "Where's the difference? You think he's an idiot, too."

"The difference is that he is not interested and doesn't make a big deal about it." He said it out loud, earning himself another bemused stare from Chase.

"She won't shut up", House explained.

"You're perfectly right", Chase said and rose from his seat. "I'm not interested, and I have no desire to be the one to put fuel into a fire. Find a doctor."

"You _are_ a doctor!" he shouted after him.

"Not my department." With that, he walked his way across the patio into the cafeteria, making clear that the conversation was over.

"Uh oh", Amber said. "Looks like a clash of interest to me." She pursed her lips. "Damn it, they're not even married yet."

House closed his eyes, concentrating on pushing her back into the depths of his mind.

She didn't budge. Instead, she leaned forward, her cool breath ghosting over his cheek as she spoke.

"Four years of hard training and he's giving you _that_? What a tragic waste."

"I didn't teach him blind obedience." But deep down, he knew she was not entirely wrong. It _did_ nag on him.

Being rejected was something he would never quite brush off with a shrug, and being rejected by Chase had indeed some bitter taste to it.

"He said no because his girlfriend told him so." She gave a mocking laugh. "He dumped you because she asked him to. Now think of it, how many times did she bring you cases in the last couple of months? Apparently, her own rules don't necessarily apply to her if it serves her purpose."

No. This couldn't be. This was beyond ridiculous. In a few weeks' time, she was going to be Mrs. Chase. There was no way Cameron was still harboring unrequited feelings like a school girl.

"She's not in love with me."

"But the mere possibility is flattering."

"No it's not", he muttered. A hell of a headache was creeping up on him, burning behind his eyes. "You're wrong."

"Maybe." Amber shrugged. "But she wouldn't decline dinner with you either. No surprise he hates you."

"Chase doesn't hate me."

"You don't think he has a reason, or is it because you're thinking he's too lazy to develop that sort of energy?" She snorted in a most unattractive manner. "He's a coward. He doesn't even dare to confront you; or her, for that matter."

"And why should he?"

"Because she's being emotionally unfaithful?" Amber suggested. "She's having doubts. She told you so herself, remember?"

God, she was giving him more than just a headache. He rubbed his face, feeling infinitely annoyed. "This has nothing to do with me."

"Yeah, right", Amber scoffed. "She's coming to you for advice how to dump him, and you're telling me it has nothing to do with you. Seriously? You're not exactly Aunt Agony. You're not stupid, either. A woman always has an agenda. You know that."

Why was it so hard to make her stop? Worse yet, why did he feel the tinge of satisfaction as she spoke? He wasn't in love with Cameron. She wasn't in love with him. She was to marry Chase.

When he opened his eyes again, Amber scorned. "And that makes it official."

"File's closed", House said, fervently hoping to win this futile and ridiculous argument with nothing but sheer determination. "No regrets."

"So it's all over now."

"Ask Cameron."

"We don't have to ask, do we? What's more, we don't want to hear the answer." She shrugged her shoulders and threw a craving glance at the leftover of Chase's fruit salad. "Besides, everybody lies."


	3. Chapter 3

Chase was about to log out at the reception when he heard the familiar tapping of a cane approaching from behind.

A little too eagerly, he scribbled his signature onto the form, handing back the clipboard to the nurse.

"I'm not playing, House."

"How would you feel if I drink myself into a coma or knock myself out senseless because you refused to cooperate?"

"You've survived worse. Pushing a knife into a socket, for example."

"You think that might help?"

Chase buttoned his coat and headed for the door, mentally preparing himself to outrun House if he had to. "It might help if you'd figure out what she wants from you."

"I'm getting the idea she's not very fond of you."

Chase kept on walking. "It's not gonna work, House. Dragging me into your craziness won't make me change my mind. I'm out of here."

"So you're basically saying you don't give a crap."

Amber shook her head in a disapproving manner and pursed her lips. "Pressuring him with self-pity? How pathetic."

Maybe it was, but he wasn't in the mood to be cautious.

"How about having a drink? Come on, Chase. You've been waiting for this to happen."

He could see the hesitation as well as the tell-tale glance towards the emergency room. "Just one drink then."

"He's thrilled" Amber noticed. "Is it because you invite him for a drink, or because he is doing something that she mustn't know?"

"I'm guessing both."

"Talking to yourself again?" Chase asked.

"It's Amber."

"Oh, right."

**oOo**

The bar Chase had chosen was quiet and reminded House of a pub. They settled for a booth close to the entrance. When the waiter approached them, Chase ordered two beers.

"Ginger Ale for the Lady?" he suggested, dead-pan.

"How witty", Amber said.

House took the opportunity to eye Chase closely. He looked different; grown up almost, and somewhat bolder, too. The hair was longer, his clothing less formal than it used to be. The hideous ties were gone as well as the smooth façade of the young doctor he'd been working with.

At the hospital, he usually wore scrubs. Now, he was sporting a sweater over a black T-Shirt and tattered jeans, and his scruffy appearance easily competed with House's.

They barely spoke until the drinks arrived. Chase ordered a sandwich.

"Why doesn't she like me?" he picked up on their conversation, taking a large swig of beer. "It's not like she's shown a lot of interest in the past."

Meaning that he, House, was indifferent to what was going on in his ex-employees life. "She keeps calling you a wuss."

"Why?"

"You're about to rush into a marriage that neither of you can handle. And because your clothes smell of fabric softener."

"Amber doesn't know a thing about Cameron and me."

"It's enough to keep her busy."

"She's obviously a keen observer."

"She also loves to gossip."

Chase sighed. "Gossip doesn't seem the problem here. It's more than that, otherwise you wouldn't be bothered to pay me a drink. She's a part of you; a part that you no longer have control of, and it's bugging the hell out of you."

"Uh oh", Amber said. "Given he told you he had no proper psychological training, he comes across rather acurate, doesn't he?"

House snorted, ignoring her with wild determination. "I don't care what it is. I want her gone."

Chase leaned back in his seat, folding his arms across his chest in an almost defensive manner. "You've been keeping up to date on us, haven't you? Now why would you do that? You couldn't care less about me and Cameron, but you love messing with people's heads, and that's exactly why she won't shut up. Getting rid of Amber is delusional, House. She's not some alien intruder. She's some weird representation of your subconscious mind, and there's no way to make her stop unless you're facing the facts. – This is madness", he added, shaking his head and reaching for his drink. "I shouldn't have come here in the first place, telling you what you figured out already."

For the span of a moment, there was an awkward silence, except for the subdued noise of the guests around them. Then, Chase asked: "Why her? You never liked her."

"If he was in my place, I'd be thrilled", Amber commented, "which brings us back to my brilliant scheme."

"I don't want to hear it", House snapped.

Chase stared blankly at him, then decided to excuse him. "Why does she care at all? It is not like we've had an awful lot of discussion about it."

House gave in, strategically. Just a little bit to keep him on edge. "Cameron came to talk to me."

"Oh, right", Amber said cheerfully and snapped her fingers. "You convinced her to clean out a drawer for him. That was such a romantic gesture, wasn't it? I mean, come on, what more could a future husband wish for?"

Chase eyed him suspiciously. "She says she's dealing with you on a professional basis."

"Her sky blue shiny eyes and her rosy cheeks say otherwise."

"Now that was a daring move," Amber pointed out. "You're _so_ going to piss him off."

Chase's next question proved her right. The tone of his voice was more than a little bit chary. "What exactly is going on between you and Cameron?"

"You better sort this out with your fiancée."

"Great idea." Amber nodded approvingly. "It's about time to stir him a little. Unconditional love? Only in his dreams."

Chase' fingers clutched at the glass. His knuckles turned white. "She asked me to stay away from you."

Not exactly newsflash. "Yeah, figures."

"Cameron has proven to be right more than once when it comes to you."

"Cameron also believes you're manipulative and a hopeless romantic."

"She wants to marry me."

"Because you were persistent enough. At some point you must have convinced her that it may be worth a try. Or maybe she grew tired of finding excuses. Do you have an incurable disease up your sleeve, just in case?"

"Very good," Amber cheered on, triumph on her face. "Show no mercy. Only two more weeks left for him to make up his mind."

"This is bullshit," Chase said, apparently running out of arguments.

"I didn't drag you to a bar to throw paternal advice at you in terms of your marriage. It's me who's stuck with a problem, not you. We both know you wouldn't listen to me, and I don't care anyway."

"Yeah, I can see you don't", Chase sneered, collecting his bag from the floor. He would be out of here within the next minute, leaving him with the bill and a yet to be served sandwich.

Damn.

He hated chicken sandwich.

Amber looked at him with her elbows propped up on the table. "Ask him. He's leaving anyway."

And so he did. "Do you really think marrying her will make your life happy and fulfilled?"

Chase darted his eyes at him, tentatively reaching for his jacket, but refused to respond.

"Use your head, man up, and tell me if I'm wrong."

Amber's gaze followed Chase as he practically stomped through the door and into the streets. "That was cruel. Well done. Now he's seriously pissed."

Same here, House thought. "What the fuck is his marriage to me? Why would you keep bringing it up? He could marry a sheep for all I care."

"You do care." Amber presented an eerie smile. "_We_ care."

The waiter arrived with Chase's sandwich.

As expected, it offered a taste of sawdust and wet cotton rags.

**oOo**

It was one of their evenings in.

It didn't happen often enough, and he enjoyed having dinner with her.

They sat on the sofa and watched a movie on DVD.

Sometimes they would watch the news; sometimes she would turn on the stereo, listening to some quirky Blues recordings while shifting through paper work, her spectacles sitting on the bridge of her nose.

He would prepare something to eat in the kitchen (because she wasn't too keen on cooking), settling down next to her with a good read, watching her over the top of the pages from time to time. He noticed that they weren't talking a lot. They would discuss the food, the film they've just watched, or simply talked about their work. And the wedding preparations, of course. They never talked about themselves.

His conversation with House had upset him more than he wanted to admit to himself. He tried to ban their conversation out of his mind, and yet he couldn't. Couldn't shake off the notion that something was about to go terribly wrong. Just to consider that House, in the shape of Amber, knew more about Cameron than he did, drove him into a barely controllable frenzy.

Unaware of his brooding mood, she pecked on a few sweet peas in the fried noodles.

No longer able to hold back, but instantly wishing he'd swallowed his tongue instead, he finally broke the silence.

"You're absolutely sure you want to marry me?"

She was frowning for a second before looking at him. "We already had this conversation."

"I mean, it's a big deal. It's a life-long commitment. I don't want you do this if you're not certain."

"I am." She didn't smile. "I had doubts, but they're gone. I love you."

Her tone of voice was the same when she would admonish him to wear a scarf because it was cold outside.

He fell silent again. If he pressed any further, he would hurt her feelings. Maybe even provoke a fight.

He wanted no quarrel with her because in the end, it would make him feel guilty.

"Have you seen House?" she asked. Distraction when there was none.

"He looks like death warmed up."

"Someone should deal with this."

"What about Wilson?"

Cameron shrugged. "You were the one House decided to confide to, not me. Your turn to tell Wilson. Oh, while we're at it, Wilson proposed to arrange a bachelor party for you. Nothing spectacular, but he would love to do it. Since your friend won't be able to attend, I fancied you might want to invite some of your colleagues from surgery."

"Sounds great." He meant it. He hadn't even thought about a bachelor party.

"It's settled then. I'll talk to Wilson first thing in the morning. Who are you going to invite?" She looked at him, her eyebrows cocked. "Foreman, of course. And Taub. Anybody else?"

She gave him a slight pat on the arm when he, only half in jest, suggested his boss.

"He'd fire you if he sees you drunk."

"I'm never drunk."

"You're a bad liar."

He curled a lock of her hair around his finger, happy to pull her leg a little. "Contrary to popular opinion, booze is not exactly my forte. Trust me."

"I'll be happy if your Australian friends are just as civilized as you are, Robert Chase."

"Except for Jerry, nobody's coming."

"Jerry", she muttered. "Why do I keep forgetting his name?"

Later, she snuggled up into his arm.

They watched the movie, and by the times the news came on, she was sound asleep.

He was glad that they had avoided talking about House again.


	4. Chapter 4

House decided to take matters into his own hands.

A man's last day of freedom deserved a proper send-off.

Even if it was Chase's.

"So you're doing this because you're actually trying to be nice?" Amber suggested, raising an eyebrow. "Doesn't sound like us."

"No. I'm doing this because he has a nice tushy."

"You hate parties."

"Only when there's spinning the bottle involved."

"How about Chippendales jumping out of a cake? He'd like that."

"I was thinking something more stylish. Like cork hats for the guests. A Didgeridooband playing _Waltzing Mathilda_. Dancing kangaroos."

"Don't forget the Piñata", she said sourly. "He's such a _boy_."

House didn't pay attention to her, for once being more absorbed in the task of action than being forced to listen. "Wilson had a bunch of strippers on his bachelor party."

"Yeah, and it was a good thing his wife never found out."

Strictly speaking, she was right. Nobody knew what was going on behind closed doors, but Wilson had spent a conspicuously large amount of time with one of the long-legged beauties.

"You think Chase is going to cheat on her?" Amber looked delighted. "Nice. That might break them up."

"That's what you said."

"He can't be that perfect", Amber argued. "He's not what she wants. You, on the other hand…"

"I don't want Chase." God, she was more than irritating in her constant insinuations. Did he have to convince his subconscious mind that he wasn't interested in men? What arguments would she need to hear to stop nagging? He wasn't, and would never be, sexually attracted to Chase.

Amber shrugged. "I'm not saying you're actually gay. Just open-minded."

"Shut up. I've got work to do."

House went to plot the whole shenanigans like a war lord designing strategies for an upcoming battle. He was determined to make this a very special evening; not for Chase, of course not, but for his own sake. Activity kept him distracted; moreover, he felt like being almost sane again. Besides, he knew how to arrange a bachelor's party, any archaic rituals of manhood included. God knew when Chase would ever get the chance.

"It's gonna knock him over," Amber predicted.

"Why, because he has no experience with strippers? What makes you think he hasn't?"

"He's not one to raise a roof."

"You barely know him."

"Cameron won't approve."

"That's why uptight chicks are not allowed."

"It'll tick her off. She's expecting Wilson to arrange a harmless, cozy get-together."

House wondered why Cameron had turned to him in the first place. Wilson wasn't exactly the type prone to debauchery, but he certainly wasn't overly concerned with moral issues, either. Responsible, maybe. Adaptable. Ready to submit to Cameron's idea of a suitable, decent celebration; ready to give her what she trusted him to be.

"Call me a romantic, but everybody deserves one last night of proper freedom."

"He's not free", she said pointedly as she stepped out of the lift with him. "Where are we going?"

"Down the morgue. I need some practice."

* * *

**oOo**

* * *

As expected, Chase was thrilled, but incapable to inform Cameron about the upcoming spectacle.

The mere idea of Cameron throwing up her hands in horror and cursing him under her breath should she find out amused House to no ends.

"She's got him under her thumb already," Amber remarked disparagingly, watching Chase leave the office with a sundae in his hands. "Why is he so terrified to tell her?"

"My parties are known for wild sex orgies and reckless booze. Enough reason for Cameron to spoil all the fun should she get wind of it."

"Sheez." Amber shook her head. "He can't do anything right, can he?"

House pondered her statement for a moment. "She was impressed when he told me to vent at his answering machine."

She snorted. 'Right, because he needed to prove that you have no longer control over him. Instead, it's her who's dictating the rules. Why does he keep up with it?"

"Because he loves her?" House suggested, not quite happy with the argument.

"I always actually thought it was a two-sided thing. Getting married. I may be wrong of course."

Love, he thought, makes perfect fools.

Chase in particular.

"They're doomed to failure ", Amber said. "Tell him. He may not like to hear it, but he's not stupid. He respects your judgment. Might as well spare him a divorce. He won't hate you for having a serious talk, but he might hate you if he finds out that he's second best."

"Chase is incapable of hating me. He's far too pragmatic."

"Silent waters run deep."

"Not Chase."

She wouldn't let it drop. Damn her persistence. "So what's it gonna be? Can you live with the fact that you've lost all your influence on him? He's deceiving her already by letting you arrange the party. He wants this. He finds it exciting enough to engage actively in your scheming. You have a better grasp of him than his wife ever will. They're doomed, and it will it break our cold, cold heart."

He didn't say anything. Wished she would keep her mouth shut.

It was none of his business what was going on between Chase and Cameron.

Not since they've stopped working for him, anyway.

But then Cameron had the nerve to show up in his office and asking him for advice, and it didn't include tears, regrets, and an encouraging paternal hug. Instead, she made very clear that she was openly questioning her relationship to Chase, wanting it to end without feeling guilty about it. Because he, House, was the master of messing up relationships.

It was possible that she had a hidden agenda after all.

For reasons that he'd rather not wanted to explore.

"She won't let go of you", Amber summed up his thoughts, her voice cold and without sympathy, "just like you can't let go of Chase. He's so grateful for any bit of attention you're giving him. He's content with your little finger where she would grab your whole arm. Metaphorically speaking."

"I don't want Cameron."

Amber scoffed. "You don't want her to have him, either. She'll ruin him."

"Cameron would have probably expressed it the other way 'round. What's your point?"

"Why should they marry?"

"Maybe it makes them happy." Playing the devil's advocate was not exactly his forte when he usually preferred the devil's side.

"The thought of being married makes _him_ happy. Give it a few months time and his romantic illusions will shatter. Why wait so long? Why not confront the two with reality? Brutal truths, that's what you're best at."

"Everyone is entitled to learn from their own mistakes." Damn, she made him argue with proverbs already.

Amber leaned in closer, and he felt the touch of her hair on his face. "You don't mean that. Admit you're proud of him. Admit that you can still use him. Do you really want him to turn his back on you in the future because his wife told him so?"

"This is absurd."

She shrugged, then sat down at the examination table and primly folded her hands in her lap. "Don't tell me I haven't warned you."

He reached for the gin bottle and the Bunsen burner. "Cutthroat bitch", he growled, fervently wanting to aim the buzzing flame at her and have her crumble to flakes of ashes.

* * *

**oOo**

* * *

"Why am I in your dreams?" Chase asked. "Why not Cameron?"

"Cameron would do me a favor and wear a leather bikini. You look boring in scrubs. I liked your awful ties better. Did Cameron donate your wardrobe to the salvation's army?"

"Where's Amber?"

"Out to fetch some Thai food. Hot and spicy, just as you like it."

Chase settled down on the bedside chair, hands firmly tucked into his pockets.

House knew it was a hallucination by the simple fact that Chase looked pretty much the same as he had done at his job interview.

Neatly combed, clean shaved.

He looked achingly young.

"Are you still disappointed at me?" he asked straight-forward. Yes, it definitely _was_ a hallucination.

"Why would I be disappointed? I fired you when you started to grow up. Whatever you're planning to you do with your messed-up life, it's none of my business. Leave me out of this."

Chase cocked an eyebrow. "_Messed up_?"

"You've had bad preconditions."

"It shouldn't stop me from trying to be happy."

House snorted. "Cameron is right. You_ are_ naive."

"It's really getting to you. This is new."

_It's not_, House wanted to say, but refrained from saying it out loud. Then again, who was he trying to fool here? "Truth to be told, I'm a bit pissed at you for not asking me to be your Best Man at the wedding. My guess is you've talked Cameron out of it."

Chase averted his eyes, almost looking guilty. "Am I making a mistake?"

"You do what I expect you to do."

"Have you ever been in love?"

Bold.

Undaunted.

Challenging, almost.

"Sure have. What about you?"

He morphed back into the Chase he knew. "This won't lead to anything. I should be going."

"If you are satisfied with one cleared-out drawer, that's not my problem."

"Why make it mine then?"

He didn't know the answer. Chase sat there and stared at him blankly, unaffected by what was going on around him.

Strange how fatalistic he could be when it came to himself.

So annoyingly blind when he pursued his own interests.

So damn fool-hearted when there was sentiment involved.

"Cameron doesn't love you."

"She's going to marry me."

True, he thought, but it's not the same.

Chase narrowed his eyes and leaned back a little further. "You're not jealous, right?"

He laughed without humor. "Do you really think I would have to fight for Cameron's favor? I'm one step ahead of you, because I am the more damaged of both of us. You should tell her about your tragic, loveless childhood. Might get you some bonus points in her book."

Chase shook his head in disbelief, visibly stunned. "This is insane. You're sick, House. Get some help."

"If you ever fail to be what she expects you to be, she'll drop you without so much as a blink of her pretty blue eyes."

Chase hesitated. Furrowed his brow. House could practically hear the small machine in his brain set into motion.

Finally, he said: "It's not true."

"Then you're living under a delusion. Come on, Chase. You have brains, and you're unscrupulous if need be. I wouldn't have fired you if you hadn't learned at least that. Get ready for six weeks of sex withdrawal should you ever dare to act immoral again."

"I won't listen to that crap any longer." He stood up and headed for the door.

"I can give you a few phone numbers. Just in case", House shouted after him.

Without turning back, the hallucination of Chase slipped out of the room.

When House opened his eyes again, he found Amber sitting in the same chair that Chase had just left, struggling with chopsticks and a box of fried noodle on her knees. "Did you two have a nice chat?"

"Men's talk", he replied curtly, as ready to listen to her as Chase did to him.

"He's hardly a man, right? More like one of Peter Pan's lost boys. Looking out for a Mommy substitute, perhaps. That would make Cameron Wendy, right?"

House closed his eyes, knowing that it wouldn't help.

"It keeps bugging you," she said with a mocking smile. "Still intrigued to see the big picture, are we? I like it when we are curious. It's what we're best at, right?"

He pulled the blanket over his head.

To hell with the wedding.

To hell with his dreams.

And, above all, to hell with Amber.

"It won't do any good", he heard her inexorable voice. "You hire the strippers already? Could be a lot of fun. Just think of what might happen if she finds out. She would be so morally outraged. Listen to me. If we find one that looks like Mommy, he may crack. Sob on her breasts and maybe even a bit more. How do you think Cameron would like that?"

"She would cancel the wedding immediately."

"It's a nice thought, isn't it," she asked, innocently.

"I do not want Cameron," he growled.

"Of course not. You could have had her anytime. The poor girl practically offered herself on a silver tablet. Where's the challenge?"

Did she just imply he wanted to have Chase? That was bizarre.

"Even if you should get suspicious about me and Wilson, I'm not gay."

Still bizarre. He didn't speak with Amber, the fiancée of his best friend, but with Amber, his personalized subconscious.

"You are also not particularly good at abandoning old habits."

Did she just compare Chase to an old habit?

He pushed back the blanket and turned around and watched her pulling another styrofoam box from the brown paper bag. The smell of fried rice and glutamate invaded his nostrils, causing his stomach to churn.

"It has nothing to do with Chase or Cameron."

"Then why don't you leave things well alone? Let's both get married, lean back, and enjoy the show. You've found a reasonable replacement for him. Someone who can keep up with you and makes you laugh. Oh, wait, Kutner's dead." She shrugged. "It doesn't matter. There's one born every minute. You can hire a new idiot anytime."

If he didn't get rid off her, he'd go crazy.

Maybe he was already.

For the first time, fear hit him.

Fear of insanity. Fear of losing his mind.

Suddenly, he was afraid to do something he would regret later.

"Set up the party" Amber whispered close to his ear, and he felt her breath on his face, lacking any human warmth. "Everything else you leave up to me."

It sounded like a threat.


	5. Chapter 5

Chase was just about to settle with the sundae at the doctor's lounge when Cameron poked her blonde head through the door.

"Hey. I've been looking for you."

He pulled another spoon from the drawer and plopped down onto the sofa, inviting her to join him. The first bite told him that it had been a pretty bad idea; the ice cream was not your average flavored Macadamia nut or Bourbon vanilla, but bore a prominent hint of Jamaican rum. Consequently, Cameron wrinkled her nose and gave him a quizzical look. "Is that alcohol?"

"Don't tell anyone. It's Dr. Meyer's from neurology. He's got a bit of a drinking problem. I'm only trying to help."

"By stealing his stash. How very considerate of you." She gave him a half-hearted smile, and then put her hands between her knees, shifting uncomfortably on the edge of the couch. "Have you spoken to House?"

"Haven't seen him for days." Chase couldn't believe how easy it was to evade the truth when he was with her, and he slightly wondered what House would deduce from the fact that he had no problem in doing so. Trust issues, perhaps.

Cameron put the spoon aside. "He's working overtime. Maybe he's back to normal."

"Could be." He doubted it, but the last thing he wanted to discuss with her was House's state of mind. It was bad enough as it was; getting Cameron worried surely wouldn't help.

She kept looking at him in a searching manner like a stubborn child who was about to test their boundaries. "I want him to attend our wedding."

Chase felt a pang in his chest. "You know he won't come."

"Maybe, if we tell him how much it would mean to us…" Her voice trailed off, and she kept giving him that peculiar stare.

For a moment, Chase was tempted to find her looking almost guilty as charged.

"Tell him you positively don't want him to show up and spoil the happiest day of your life. That might work."

"We both should ask him to come. After all, he has offered to arrange the party. He wouldn't do it if you were just another ex-employee to him."

Chase fleetingly wondered if she felt disappointment, or some sort of childish resentment. He assumed that House was up to the task because a bachelor party was more to his taste than some romantic, solemn procedure where people were prone to shedding tears of joy or throwing rice up in the air. It had nothing to do with him, or Cameron. House was like a teenager in many aspects. A bachelor party was too good to give it a miss. A wedding, not so much.

Chase took her hand and gently squeezed her fingers. "Do you really want him to come? I could ask him if you like, but it's not like I'm very good at making House change his mind."

She rewarded him with an ironic smile, reminiscing Chase of his status in House's team; the ass-kisser, the guy-to-mock-and-grab-by-the-balls if everyone else resorted to mutiny. The plain fact was, he hardly ever had a reason to object, and that's why he would stick to House's opinion more readily than opting to inefficient opposition like Cameron or Foreman would have. He didn't regret it then, and he certainly didn't hold it against himself now, but the mark of being House's sock puppet had been stamped all over his face back then, and it didn't wash off so easily.

"You know how he is. He probably just needs to hear how much it would mean to us." Cameron leaned forward, her fingers curling absent-mindedly around his own. "I think I'd feel like something was missing if he wasn't there."

"He's not going to compliment on your dress."

"You think that's why I want him to attend?"

"To be honest, I don't know why you want it. It's not like he's part of the family or something." _It's not like he even likes us._

"Neither are Cuddy and Wilson, or Foreman and Thirteen", Cameron pointed out. "Besides, if it hadn't been for House, we never would have met."

He kept holding her hand, tried to figure out what was on her mind. He couldn't find anything but the genuine desire to invite a man that had been their boss for the span of what seemed like a time of growing up, of maturing; the man who had turned them into effective professionals; the man who was somehow linked to their past, and always would be.

Making House jealous on her wedding day was a long shot, even for Cameron.

He shouldn't think that way.

He shouldn't keep up with this insane jealousy.

Hell, he was the one who got her in the end, not House. "If it makes you happy, I'll ask him."

"You're a sweetheart." She got up, and her hand slipped out of his grip.

Suddenly, Chase felt the urge to pull her back, but she was on her feet before he got the chance.

"Oh, and while you're at it, make him understand that Wilson hosts the party, not him. It's nothing personal. I would like to marry you unscathed, that's all."

**oOo**

Chase found House in his office stretched out on the recliner, sound asleep.

Well, it _looked_ like he was sleeping, but he might as well pretend and listen to what was going on beyond those glass walls. A sleeping House wasn't necessarily a good thing; Chase knew from experience how alert his mind could be when he appeared to have dozed off.

Still, it gave him a welcoming excuse to postpone what seemed like a hopeless waste of time anyway.

Chase was in the middle of effective retreat when House unexpectedly (or rather, not so unexpectedly) opened an eye.

"It's true, I've killed people for less than interrupting my beauty sleep, but I don't think you're worth the effort."

Chase checked the adjacent room with a quick glance, making sure it was deserted. His best chance was to come right to the point. "You're arranging the party. Why don't you come to the wedding?"

"Weddings are boring. Bachelor parties, on the other hand..." He swung his left leg to the floor, and then dragged along the other, graciously offering Chase a seat on the foot rest. "Want to go for another round of the Exorcist?"

"So Amber's still here."

"You know what she said? She thinks you're the extended version of Kutner."

It did not lack a certain irony that House' subconscious mind compared him to a dead colleague. "Um. That's… kind of her."

House arched an eyebrow. "You think so? I think it's stupid."

Chase sighed, not sure what to make of it. Maybe he should get used to the idea that House had better access to the hereafter than he was acquainted with what was going on at the hospital. Or maybe adjust to the fact that he was talking nonsense. "I knew next to nothing about Kutner, but he seemed like a pretty smart guy, otherwise you wouldn't have hired him."

"A suicide", muttered House while his eyes went straight through Chase, like he wasn't there at all. It was an eerie look, so out of character for House that Chase felt a chill running down his spine. "Willing to destroy everything he had. You call that smart?"

"You want to talk about Kutner?"

He suddenly realized that everybody seemed to avoid the subject. It was probably a good sign that House wasn't.

However, his next words were cold, dripping with disparagement, and spoken in a tone of voice that was designed to rile Chase.

"This isn't about Kutner."

"Your problem with Amber is most likely connected with Kutner's suicide. It might have triggered the hallucinations in the first place."

House's eyes narrowed, scrutinizing him with sparkling interest as well as a hint of vexation. "You didn't seek me out to annoy me with some amateur opinion, and it's not about your boy's wild night out, either. So who sent you? Because I strongly doubt you were growing a care bear gene over night, unless it's contagious."

Why was it that he always felt like an idiot in House's presence? Chase sighed and decided to lay down his defenses. They were pretty useless around House, anyway. "It's Cameron", he confessed. "She wants you to attend the wedding."

"I'm basically unavailable for funerals, christenings and weddings. Way too depressing. It's nothing personal, much as she'd like to hear me admit it."

Chase ignored the insinuation. Everybody at the hospital was gossiping about Cameron having 'a thing' for her former boss.

It didn't matter.

It _shouldn't_ matter.

Not anymore.

"I wouldn't have asked you if it wasn't for Cameron. I told her you'll find it meaningless and boring, and even if you attend, you'd find a way to ridicule the whole procedure, and that would be a serious mood killer. She asked me to invite you anyway."

His eyes shone up in sudden interest. "Did you ask her why?"

He didn't need an answer to that question.

And, truth to be told, he didn't want one.

He was doing this for the woman he was going to marry, not because of some sort of stupid self-flagellation.

"We're not fighting over some woman's affection," House said after a long, uncomfortable pause, his voice surprisingly sober. "We've never been, but surely you're aware of it. You're not some moron who resorts to Othello-mode."

Even without much effort Chase realized that he was right.

He was always right, and Chase had always been ready to respect that.

Then why did he feel like he was painting himself into a corner? Why was there so much insecurity, so much suspicion, so much not talking between him and Cameron?

"Cameron loves me," he said, like some mantra that would come true if he repeated it over and over again.

House, unusually distracted, spared him a snide retort. "Good luck with that."

"It's settled, then. You won't attend."

"You can count on me."

"Thank you."

"You're welcome."

Chase left the office, feeling sheepish and a bit confused, but the relief was far greater than he thought it would be.

As much as he was looking forward to the party, he didn't want House to be around at the wedding.

It was going to be _his_ happiest day, too.

Happy days and House just didn't go well together.

**oOo**

They were watching _Fried Green Tomatoes __on DVD_, one of Cameron's favorite movies. The plot was lost on Chase, and he re-played their short conversation earlier that evening. Cameron had been thoroughly disappointed when he told her about House's firm refusal, but didn't press any further.

While Chase could live with his reasons, he couldn't quite wrap his head around the rest of their conversation. It didn't make much sense, but then again, House hadn't made much sense in the last couple of weeks.

Cameron threw him a sidelong glance, her mind anywhere but at the Whistle Stop Café. "Do you think I should go and ask him myself?"

He didn't, and it wouldn't change a thing. "Why does it mean so much to you?"

"You know why." She stared at the screen again. "All our friends and colleagues will be there. We've been working for him longer than most of the people we've invited. I'm not saying he's more important than any of our guest, but I just feel like it would be nice to have him."

Idly, Chase curled a lock of her hair around his finger. He loved sitting with her on the sofa, even if it meant watching girls movies on TV and having her complain about the regular food delivery.

It just felt good.

It felt like something worth to come home for, and he wasn't willing to give up on that too easily.

Chase watched her distinctive profile, wondering if he would ever have the balls to confront himself with the niggling doubts he was silently harboring.

It was like a bomb that was about to blow off.

He certainly wouldn't be foolish enough to set fire to the fuse.

**oOo**

She kept holding the fort.

Like a chimera (which she undoubtedly was), Amber followed him through the clinic, kept nattering through the DDX, spiced up with annoying observations about his team.

"She's hot," she said with an approving look when he sent Thirteen and Foreman off to a strip club in order to complete Chase's wild night out.

"I don't pick my staff on pin up qualities."

"Yeah, right", Amber scoffed, "but you wouldn't mind having her picture in your locker."

"She's doing a good job."

"And she looks hot while doing so. Don't tell me you didn't take that into account when you hired her."

House felt more than a little bit tired of her ongoing analyses. Hiring a doctor because he found her sexually attractive? And yet, it was exactly what he told Cameron four years ago. He had been dismissive, of course, and he would like to pretend that he had selected all of his fellows to stricter criteria as to the attractiveness of their faces or cup size. Then again, he hardly knew anything private on his new team. He hadn't even noticed Kutner going down the road to self-destruction.

"Don't bother", Amber said reassuringly. "You had more important things on your mind than your employee's private life."

"It was different once," he said.

"Right, but that was when you weren't crazy."

He took the key of Wilson's apartment out of his pocket, unlocking the door. She followed him like she knew her way around; like she had the right to be here.

It annoyed him even more.

"The ice cream bar will be over here. Buffet's in the aisle to the bedroom, right?"

"You're alarmingly okay with a bachelor's party in your own apartment."

She shrugged. "I'm just a hallucination, remember?"

Hallucinations didn't live in apartments. Of course.

"You're really making an effort", Amber noticed and settled down on the sofa, watching him setting up the glass pyramid. "You wouldn't do it for anyone."

"I did it for Wilson. Numerous times, actually."

"He's your best friend. What's Chase to you, then? What did he do to deserve your attention? It's not like he's employee of the month or something."

Oddly enough, he didn't have an answer for that. Would he do the same for Foreman? For Taub?

He was never _nice._

Not without reason.

Not without ulterior motive.

"Chase is the Oliver Twist among my people. I have a heart for the homeless."

"He is also the only one who can outmaneuver you. He's got the brains to do it. He thinks like you. One day he'll be as reckless as you are. Wouldn't you like that? Isn't that what you train them for? You teach them to become doctors who will act like you; doctors who will go beyond boundaries if necessary; doctors who give a shit on the Hippocratic Oath when it's just a hindrance. Chase has understood that. He trusts your judgment, and he acts upon it. One day he is to trust his own. And that'll be the day when he will turn into you."

He didn't want to listen to this.

"Of course, you can pretend that I'm wrong." She looked up at him with an unattractive smug on her face. "Or, you can simply admit it. Once they're married, he won't be under your thumb anymore but hers. The sad fact is, you're about to lose him. Who wouldn't be pissed about that?"

"What am I supposed to do? Pulling a Benjamin Braddock and kidnap him at the wedding to drive off into a glorious sunset?"

"Don't be silly." She crossed her legs and primly clasped her hands, then nodded towards the pyramid. "All I'm trying is to make you understand why you're doing this."

He certainly didn't do it out of some sort of ill-advised obligations.

Chase meant nothing to him.

It was fun to host parties, and there was no deeper meaning behind it.

"I'm good at this."

"You want him back."

"I _fired_ him."

"And you would gladly have taken him back when he was the only one who came up with the correct diagnosis while a pose of hopeful aspirants cut your patient open. It was such a heart-warming moment, remember? You were clearly impressed. Proud of him, too."

House snorted, remembering the moment of weakness all too vividly. And, truth to be told, he hadn't been proud enough to beg.

_Begging Chase to come back_.

What an embarrassing moment of weakness that had been (weakness in the face of newly-gained Australian confidence, just to add insult to injury), and not heart-warming at all. Still, he said: "You're making it sound like Chase is some sort of prodigy."

She shrugged again. "Your words, not mine."

He locked her up in the apartment, fully aware that it was pointless.

She already waited for him in the back seat of Wilson's car.

"Wilson won't be happy to find his apartment turned into a brothel."

"He'll jump right in. He always does."

"Like Chase?" she suggested.

Just like Chase.

She smiled mockingly in the rearview mirror, then leaned forward to fill his right ear with another string of ludicrous revelations. "You like him. Why let him go? Why leave him in her hands? Who knows, if he's married long enough, he may even develop a conscience, and how boring would that be."

_I'm sick with this_, House thought, clutching the steering wheel and trying to ignore the cold breeze that her breath was. _Get the hell away from me._

"Maybe we can put a spoke in her wheel", she whispered. "It would be better for both of them, and you know it."

Her words were like a migraine, and there was nothing he could do to shut her down.

God, he really needed to sleep.

**oOo**

Keeping the party a secret from Cameron was a fun game.

Chase was surprised to find out that it didn't bother his conscience too much. Surely, she wouldn't be enthusiastic about it, and she would probably disapprove, blaming him that he hadn't been completely honest with her, but he hadn't promised her anything yet, so he was in the clear, wasn't he?

Besides, Cameron herself had strained his goodwill when she told him of the legacy of her late first husband.

He was entitled to have his little revenge.

"Is something wrong?" Cameron asked while they were sharing luncheon at the cafeteria. "You're awfully quiet."

"It was a long morning", he lied. "Colectomy".

"I'm thinking about seating Meredith and Rebecca next to Steven and Lance. Meredith just recently broke up with her boyfriend, and the other three are currently single."

It took him a second to realize that she spoke of the arrangements at the wedding dinner. Of all the people she mentioned, he knew only Meredith, fleetingly. She was Cameron's best friend, and he didn't really care about her. As long as she sat far enough away from him, he'd be happy to oblige. "Do we really need to have a seating order? Why not have everybody take a seat where they feel comfortable?"

She gave him a quick frown. "I don't think Meredith would be comfortable sitting next to some lovey-dovey couple."

It never ceased to amaze him how meticulously she made plans. Experience had taught him that it was best to stay out of it. She was a stickler by nature.

"Fine with me", he said.

"Please make sure to pick up your shoes at Garisson's. You've paid a fortune to have them made."

God prevent he was going to wear the wrong pair of shoes on his wedding. "I'll go get them tomorrow."

"Don't forget to book accommodation for your friend."

"Already taken care of."

"And please get a haircut," she added.

Chase looked at her in slight surprise. "Is it too long?"

Cameron grimaced. "It's been too long for weeks. I've reminded you twice. Let it get cut before the wedding. Unless you want my parents to think I'm getting married to a hippie."

"They would never forgive you", he said teasingly, but she didn't return the joke.

"I wouldn't have asked you if it didn't matter to me."

He denied himself another joke at her expense. "Look, you don't have to organize everything to death. I don't want you to collapse as soon as the first guests arrive."

"We should have taken the Acapulco honeymoon", she said, oblivious to what he just said. "What if something happens at the clinic and we're not available?"

Chase leaned back, eyeing her suspiciously. "You're not concerned about the clinic. You're worried about House."

"Nonsense." She didn't sound too convincing.

"House has problems. It's not up to you or me to solve them. I wouldn't worry too much. Yesterday he was almost his old self again."

Another lie, but the truth would upset her even more.

She bit her bottom lip. "If he was his old self again, he might as well change his mind, don't you think?"

"No. That's not what I'm thinking at all."

"I'll go ask him," she said firmly.

"Allison." He grabbed her wrist to hold her back, unable to control the spark of jealousy. "It's a waste of time. Please let it go."

"I'm late already", she said. "See you."

Chase watched her leave the cafeteria with a sinking feeling in his stomach.

He carelessly shrugged it off (because he was good at that) and helped himself to her untouched glass of orange juice.

It tasted stale and artificial.


	6. Chapter 6

„He's having fun."

"Who doesn't?"

"You, for instance", she said, "locking yourself up in the bathroom and listening to the mayhem that goes on beyond a closed door."

"Do I look to you like I don't enjoy myself?" House raised the bottle of champagne to help himself to another swig.

"Cheers." Amber raised her glass in a mocking toast. "He's like a little boy left in a toy store."

"Then we were doing it right."

"Aren't we happy now", she scoffed. "I think he's getting drunk by the minute."

It was weirdly satisfying to see Chase letting go like this. It was like watching a different kind of person. As long as he knew him, Chase had always been the hardest to trick into a spontaneous reaction. The sound of his inebriated laughter was like a well-deserved reward to House.

Everything it took was alcohol and a bunch of pretty girls dancing and flirting and feeding him ice-cream with their perfectly manicured fingers.

Quite pleased with himself, he clinked glasses with Amber who was sitting opposite him in the empty tub. "Here's to a successful party."

"Here's to a pointlessly plastered Dr. Chase", she replied, dead-pan, "Finally spinning out of control at your very command."

"Foreman's playing chaperon. I bet Cameron has asked him to."

"Only proving her point what a bad influence you are."

His influence, good or bad, would come to an end once they had tied the knot.

Chase would have no difficulties to adapt to Cameron's own moral code. He was fairly good at switching sides if it served his purpose, selfish little prick that he was.

"It works for him", Amber pointed out, jumping on his train of thought. "Besides, he shies away from confrontation. Not an admiring trait we share, am I right? He's still got a few lessons to learn."

"Not from me."

"You're expecting his wife to do it for you?" She sneered contemptuously. "Get real. He'll avoid you."

"He's doing it already."

"And yet he's here, perfectly boozed and dancing with a stripper because it's fun. Because it's immoral. He enjoys that. Still playing your games, right?"

"Nothing wrong with that," he shot back.

Chase had proven to be useful, and in a way, reliable even. It didn't take much effort to convince him if House needed uncritical support from his staff, be it some sort of seemingly uncalled surgery, or some crazy antics like a betting pool or staging a bachelor party.

It wasn't because Chase was particularly easy to manipulate.

It wasn't because House considered Chase a tool or a stooge: he had actually the guts to prove that he had brains enough to object more than just once. There was a sharp mind underneath the harmless façade of boyish interior, and House knew how to use it for his own benefit.

"You hate change. I understand that", Amber said sympathetically. "That's why we don't want to let it happen."

"Are you suggesting me to break up their relationship?"

"Think of it as a personal favor."

This wasn't what he wanted. Or did he?

"You can't stand the two getting married", she stated, matter-of-factly. "Admit it. You're jealous."

"Matrimony doesn't necessarily indicate that a fairy tale comes true. According to statistics, it won't last anyway. Why would I be jealous of a marriage that is most likely about to fail?"

"You'll always be alone" she said with an icy smile. "Chase and Cameron are not."

"Two kindred hearts that have found each other on their long journey across a loveless ocean", he scoffed, "It's ridiculously romantic. Which is actually a synonym."

"Maybe he loves being dominated. Maybe it's what he wants. What they both want."

"You're wrong. She doesn't want him, and he wants her too much. It's a matter of time before they realize how brilliantly that's going to work out."

She smiled at him over the edge of her glass. "You could shorten the agony, if nothing else."

She was unpleasant.

Cold.

Sneaky.

Worst of all, he could see what she was driving at.

Why was it so hard to make her stop?

And why would he obsess about the private affairs of his former fellows?

They were no longer in his life.

They didn't mean a thing to him.

"It has never been like that," Amber said. "This hospital is your living room. Your employees are your kids. It's everything you're clinging to in your pathetic life; they're the pathetic substitute for a family. The two are going to have their own. Give it some time, and they'll reproduce. Blonde, beautiful brats, maybe two or three. Chase loves children."

So what? He didn't care.

Foreman's panicked voice and the subsequent shaking on the doorknob spared him a reply. "House! You're in there?"

"Use the other bathroom. It's in the kitchen. Looks like a sink."

"Chase went into anaphylactic shock from the stripper's body butter or something."

House felt the blood drain from his face. "Is he okay?"

"One of the residents had an EPI-pen, so he's fine but we're taking him to the hospital just to be safe."

When he turned to her, her face lit up, and a triumphant smile twitched at corners of her mouth.

The pieces fell into place, and it came as a shock. "I knew that Chase is allergic to strawberries, didn't I? That's why you wanted Karamel at the party."

"I suggested Karamel 'cause she was great at Wilson's party."

"I knew about her body butter. I knew about his strawberry allergy. I tried to kill Chase. Why would I do that? I don't want Cameron."

Amber shrugged. "You're not a big fan of other people's happiness, either."

No.

It couldn't be.

This was insane, completely illogical.

Why would he resort to such drastic means?

What would he gain in return?

There was nothing in it for him, nothing that made sense anymore. Unless…

Unless there was only one explanation left. It threw him to the verge of panic.

He had to be crazy.

"There now", Amber said, patting his arm as he staggered to get out of the tub, "no reason to get all worked up. They'll take care of him. Who knows, maybe it's good for something."

"I nearly killed a man who means nothing to me. What the hell is it good for? Why should I want to hurt Chase?"

"Because you rarely act in the interest of others if there is a chance to destroy their pretty bitty illusions?" Amber suggested helpfully.

He hated her.

He hated what her words implied.

He hated what she represented.

The only way to get rid of her one and for all was to put a bullet through his head.

"He's got everything that you'll never have," she prodded mercilessly. "Isn't that a fair reason to be jealous?"

Shaken to the core, he shook his head. "This isn't me."

"It's a part of you that you've apparently lost control over. It hasn't always been like that."

"I don't want to kill Chase. He's not a threat. He's doing what I want."

"Past tence. He's no longer your puppet."

"I never wanted him to be one."

"Well, he's going to be Cameron's from now on. If it's any consolation to you, you can always try to convince yourself that you tried to kill him as a precaution. Spare him the humiliation."

His fingers grasped the bottle so tightly that his knuckles stood out white. "This is madness."

"Still the world's best diagnostician", she nodded appreciatively, her eyes cold and hard as steel.

**oOo**

His throat felt sore when he tried to swallow, like someone had been choking him.

Breathing didn't come as easy as it should, but it would pass.

It was all over.

The party was called off.

Cameron came into view, and he tried to focus on her face, squinting. She squeezed his finger so hard it almost hurt.

"Hey" she said softly.

Chase blinked. His vision was a little blurry, and he fleetingly wondered if she could smell the alcohol in his breath. He was hopelessly drunk.

"Hey" he said weakly, attempting a smile and failing miserably.

Her expression was worried and something else – disappointment, maybe?

_Didn't I tell you that House's mad ideas would get you into trouble_?

She didn't say it aloud, and he was grateful for it.

"What were you thinking?" She brushed a strand of hair from his face, looking down at him. "You could have suffocated. You were lucky in disguise."

"I'm sorry." He didn't know what else to say. His voice sounded strange and hoarse and a bit shaky, and he hoped she would blame it on the shock.

Her tightly pursed lips turned into a frown. "You didn't tell me where you were going."

"Didn't… expect a thing like that to happen."

"No one expects such things to happen." Stunned, she shook her head. "Stuffing yourself with strawberry ice cream like that. How on earth, Robert..?"

_Strawberry body butter_, he wanted to say, but refrained in the very last moment. Who made this up? Foreman? Anyway, she would be more comfortable with him being stupid than knowing the truth.

She eyed him suspiciously. "When you were admitted, you were mumbling something about a girl. I thought women had no access."

He felt groggy, and so very tired. "It was House's idea. He doesn't believe in rules, you know that."

"That's why I'm glad we no longer work for him."

"You've always enjoyed working for him", Chase pointed out, feeling too weak to making it sound like an accusation.

"And I quit. It was time to draw a line. House changes people. It was okay while it lasted, but enough is enough." She gave him a quizzical look. "Where is he, anyway? Cuddy said the police had to pick up Wilson when he was on the way home - apparently from his own apartment. And Thirteen evidently had been at the party as well. What did you do?"

"It was just a party."

"More of an orgy I assume. God, you smell like a liquor factory."

But it had been great.

It had been fun.

More than anything he had done in a long time.

_I__f you want your marriage to matter, you have to be a wanton, trolling, muck-covered pig the day before._

Well, it seemed like he had more or less fulfilled the conditions.

"It was a party. Nothing more. You should have seen it. There was this massive glass pyramid... And he delivered a speech. It was one of the best parties I've ever had."

It was also the first that ever had been aligned especially for him since fourth grade, but he didn't tell her that.

Cameron got up with a sigh and shouldered her bag. "I'll be back by tomorrow. You're staying overnight. Do you need anything else? I brought your toothbrush and clothes to change."

"Thank you."

"It wouldn't have happened if you let Wilson throw the party."

Sure not. "It's not House' fault I'm allergic to strawberries."

"He should have known", she replied. "It's in your file."

Chase wondered if he ever bothered to take a glance at it in the first place. "Allison..."

She turned, arching her eyebrows.

"I'll be seeing you tomorrow", he said softly, still a little woozy from the alcohol and the anti histamines. "I love you."

"I love you too."

**oOo**

"Here he is, the little Prince." Amber rapped her fingernails rhythmically against the glass wall, watching Chase sleeping peacefully behind it. "Struck down by a stripper, poor thing."

"It's your fault."

"You said yourself you knew he's allergic to strawberries."

"You knew that the woman was using strawberry body butter."

"Indeed", she confirmed not without pride. "We complement each other splendidly."

House opened the door and went in, every fiber in him resenting it.

A fleeting look at the monitors told him that there was nothing to worry about. Chase was tough. He's had an allergic reaction, and it hadn't been the first in his life, and he had survived.

Just like he always did. He had outlived a drunkard of a mother and the absence of a cold-hearted father.

He had lived through a four year's lasting ordeal of torture and constant challenge under House's reign (and, truth to be told, Chase had been a grateful victim). Going into anaphylactic shock was a piece of cake compared to all that. Chase was a natural born survivor.

And yet he had tried to kill him. What for?

"You're crazy, remember?" Amber said.

There was more to it. If only he could find the answer. "He's not competition. I did what was needed to be done in order to make him function properly. It's what they're here for. It's what I do."

"Maybe he's getting too good at being like you", Amber suggested. "Maybe you tried to kill him because you're actually seeing yourself in him? The logical conclusion would be to-…"

"Don't."

Amber shrugged. Her lips didn't move, but he could hear her grating voice coming from the back of his head.

_You're miserable. You're lonely. Manipulation is what keeps you distracted from the fact that you're worthless. Why keep up with it? _

He took the bottle of vicodin out of his pocket and swallowed a handful of pills without counting them.

It didn't help.

"Better be going", Amber said. "He's waking up."

Something inside of him wanted Chase to wake up.

Something inside of him was looking for absolution.

And at the same time the urge to leave the room became almost overwhelming.

He pulled a chair and sat next to the bed, watching Chase stir in his medically induced haze.

"Bad idea", Amber said. "Tell him it was your fault and he'll hate you for the rest of his tragically shallow life."

House ignored her, watching Chase coming gradually to his senses. He grunted softly and stirred before he opened his eyes. His gaze was glassy, and he blinked rapidly, then rolled his eyes to check on the monitors like he was expecting bad news. Of course, having House next to a patient's bed rarely bore reason to get excited.

Finally, Chase croaked: "Why are you here?"

"Providing you with a stash of Spiderman comics from pedi."

"Soothing your guilty conscience", Amber corrected.

"How'd you feel?" What a strange thing to ask.

"Okay, I guess." Chase struggled to sit up. It was weird to see Chase hooked to an IV-line and medical instruments when he was usually the one who was monitoring them.

"What a crappy way to bid farewell to the guests", Chase said, twisting his mouth into a crooked, wry grin. "Apart from that, it was the best thing that ever happened to me."

His way of saying thank you.

"Sweet," Amber commented. "Now tug him in and we're out of here."

House kept looking at Chase, determined to pull through with what needed to be said. "I knew that you're allergic to strawberries."

Chase didn't understand, and why would he? It was only a part of his confession, and it meant nothing to Chase.

"You came here just to tell me that you've actually read my file?"

"You mentioned it when Cameron brought strawberry shortcake into the office some weeks after I hired her."

Chase rubbed the neck, blushing like a teenager. "It didn't even smell like strawberries."

Amber snorted. "Our plan was very carefully thought out."

House ignored her, looking Chase straight in the eye. "Quit your job."

Baffled, Chase opened and shut his mouth, then said: "What, because of an allergy?"

"Because I've put your life at stake. I staged all this madness, Chase. It was me."

A rare grin lit up his boyish face, still blissfully oblivious to the obvious. "It was a bloody crazy party. I haven't had so much fun since my tenth birthday."

"Sad", Amber commented.

"You and Cameron should leave PPTH. The sooner the better, for both of you." God, his migraine was killing him.

Chase gave him a quizzical look. "You're drunk."

"He's crazy. And a little drunk," Amber said.

"Think about it. It's no use to stay around here much longer. You can't hang on like a bird in its nest, unwilling to fly. You'll have to, eventually. This is the perfect moment, Chase. It won't get any better than that."

It was pathetic, and Chase knew it. As soon as the words were out in the open, Amber clicked her tongue with disapproval. "What is wrong with you? I thought _he_ was the one without backbone?"

Chase kept his gaze, and there was something in his eyes that frightened House more than him going all backboneless and paternal. It was a knowing look, almost wistful in its intensity. "She's still there, isn't she?"

He ignored the plainly stated fact. "You can easily find another job. You could both work in diagnostics. That's what you were designed for, not some surgeon dawdling with mind-numbing routine stuff and the occasional clashing of heads with hard-nosed employers. Cameron is wasted in the emergency room, and you get bored in surgery. That's so not why I have wasted my energy on you for four hellish years."

"You want to get rid us of", Chase noted, surprisingly sober. "Is this Amber speaking?"

Amber hissed and rolled her eyes. "Yeah, right. He still doesn't get it."

House waved her off, realizing too late how ridiculous that must have looked. "Tonight could well have ended in disaster. I want you to leave. You and Cameron don't belong here. Start building your own neat little picture perfect home with an SUV and a chock full of adorably little kids with an annoying accent."

"That was mean," Amber observed.

It was more than that. It was downright degrading. Was he just about to drop his pants in front of one of his ex-employees?

Fervently he tried to ignore Amber's compassionate snort. At least she kept her mouth shut this time.

Chase shook his head, ready to give House what he wanted. "It wasn't your fault."

_If only you knew. _

House stood and practically fled the room as best as he could with a bum leg and a knot in his stomach, and stormed into the elevator.

Amber wasn't there.

He inhaled deeply, half hoping, half terrified for a minute she was going to haunt Chase from now on, and then scolded himself a fool.

She wasn't going to be a thread for a man who was, and would always remain, the imperfect incarnation of Gregory House.

"Bed time", Amber greeted him cheerfully as he closed the door to his apartment with trembling fingers.

He walked past her and snatched a bottle of whisky from the kitchen, ready to drink himself into sweet numb oblivion.


End file.
